


the one with the pancakes

by queerly_yours



Series: tumblr prompt fills [47]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Lawyer Boyd, Living Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:02:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5014708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerly_yours/pseuds/queerly_yours
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, sleepy head,” Stiles said, trailing his fingers up Boyd’s bicep. “I brought food.”</p>
<p>At that, Boyd’s stomach growled and they both erupted into laughter. He rolled over and scooted up, propping himself up against the headboard, keeping his lap covered just in case Stiles had any wild ideas this early. There had been more than one occasion of coffee spilling somewhere that it didn’t belong because of his antics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one with the pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: okay but imagine one morning Stiles wakes up early for once and he decides to make breakfast for Boyd that morning, since he’s always making the breakfast. so Stiles puts his all into making food for his husband and it turns out disgusting. like really fucking gross. and Boyd doesn’t have the heart to tell him that, so he endures eating, because he can’t stand seeing Stiles upset

This week had been a trial a trial for Boyd, literally. His client was agitated and obnoxious, thought that he knew better than Boyd, his _lawyer_ , and the trial wasn’t going as according to plan. It was long nights, some that he hadn’t even come home, horrible take out, and voice mails from Stiles, who was the most understanding boyfriend he could have asked for.

Last night, he actually did come home to an empty apartment – Stiles had his weekly dinner at Casa Stilinski with his dad and Melissa. He had a crick in his neck from sleeping on the shitty couch in his box of an office for two days and he was hoping that Stiles would be there to work his magic fingers over it, but he wasn’t.

So, as he walked in the door, he started stripping off his clothes. Toeing off his leather wingtips first, blue and purple tartan silk tie – a gift from Stiles – next, and throwing his suit jacket over the back of the couch on his way to the bath, where he disposed of the rest on the floor. He started the water on the Jacuzzi tub that Stiles insisted they have on their search for a place to live, glanced up in the mirror.

He looked like he’d been run over by a dump truck, his eyes bloodshot and weary, dark circles bloomed under them. All he needed was one good night’s sleep, he thought, as he settled into the tub, groaning in pleasure at the heat. He leaned his head back on the lip of the tub, closed his eyes, and before he knew it, drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Stiles noticed Boyd’s car in the lot when he arrived home only twenty minutes later. He cut the dinner a little short when Boyd sent him the text telling him that he was finally coming home. His had dad understood. He found his boyfriend dead asleep in a lukewarm bath, head lolled to the side in utter peace. All the exhaustion and tension drained from his features when he slept. Stiles couldn’t wait to go on vacation to Hawaii with him. Eight whole days away from everything. They already told their bosses that there would be no working at all during the trip and they had both agreed.

As he stood there, admiring Boyd’s sleepy features, he fluttered his eyelashes open and shivered, the water having gone cold. “Stiles?” Boyd asked, words slurred a bit from exhaustion.

Stiles smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners, and grabbed a towel off the rack. “Come on. Up,” he ordered. “Time for bed.” He helped Boyd out of the tub, dried him off, making sure to take extra care around _certain_ areas, which made Boyd huff out a weary laugh and roll his eyes.

As Stiles turned to leave the bathroom, beckoning Boyd, he was wrapped in a hug from behind. Boyd pressed his cheek to the top of his head, nuzzling, soaking up the homey smell of Stiles. “I love you,” he murmured into his soft hair.

Stiles reached back, patted his boyfriend on the cheek, said, “I know. Now come on, let’s get some sleep.”

* * *

That was the last thing Boyd remembered clearly as he came back to consciousness in the morning. He rolled over towards Stiles, seeking out warmth, but he wasn’t there. The sheets were cold where he should have been. Boyd groaned, pushed his face into Stiles’ pillows, and opened one eye to catch the time.

10:34 am.

Damn, he slept for a long time, over twelve hours. He needed it though, he reminded himself, when he heard a pan clatter to the floor and Stiles curse. He grinned into the pillow and closed his eyes again, hoping to catch a few more minutes, but he was interrupted by a bounce on the bed.

“Hey, sleepy head,” Stiles said, trailing his fingers up Boyd’s bicep. “I brought food.”

At that, Boyd’s stomach growled and they both erupted into laughter. He rolled over and scooted up, propping himself up against the headboard, keeping his lap covered just in case Stiles had any wild ideas this early. There had been more than one occasion of coffee spilling somewhere that it didn’t belong because of his antics.

“You brought me breakfast in bed?” Boyd rasped, brows furrowing when he heard the harshness of his own voice.

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “You sound like shit, babe,” he commented as he settled the tray over Boyd’s wide lap. “I made pancakes.”

Boyd smiled. “Thanks, babe.”

Stiles tapped his fingers on the tray. “You eat and I’m gonna go make you some of my Babcia’s tea.”

As Stiles trailed out of their bedroom, Boyd shook his head, smiling, wondering how he got so lucky. That smile lasted all of ten more seconds, until he tried the pancakes. He grimaced, scrunching up his face, considered spitting it out, but sucked it up and swallowed. He desperately sucked down the orange juice Stiles had brought, drank it so fast that he got a small brain freeze.

That’s when Stiles walked in, a cup of hot tea in his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

Boyd shook his head, smiling sheepishly. “Nothing,” he lied as Stiles settled beside him on the bed, leaned in for a peck on the cheek.

He tried another bite and it was still just as terrible, but he had tea to wash it down. Stiles’ grandmother’s tea wasn’t amazing by any means, but it did do the trick. The warm liquid soothed his achy throat, made him feel better almost instantly.

“Boyd,” Stiles said in that way a parent catches a child in a fib. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed, slumping, and cut a bite of pancake off, fed it to Stiles. Boyd couldn’t hold back the laugh as he saw Stiles face go from annoyed to revulsion in a split second. Stiles didn’t swallow the pancake though, he spit it out in the napkin he’d brought for Boyd.

“What _was_ that?” Stiles asked, appalled, more to himself than anything.

Boyd lifted the tea up to his mouth, grinned around the lip of cup as he drank, as Stiles mentally went through the list of ingredients, trying to figure out where it went wrong.

Once he finished the tea, he wrapped his hand around Stiles’ and said, “It’s already eleven. Why don’t we just get sandwiches from Frederick’s?” It was their favorite sub shop, everything was incredibly fresh and they were fast.

Stiles grumbled an agreement, still lost in thought over where he screwed up, so Boyd ran his fingers up Stiles’ arm to his neck then chin, pulled him in for a kiss and out of his own head.  It was easy to forget morning breath and lack of sleep with Stiles. Everything in his body pulled towards his boyfriend, wanting, needing. He felt the kiss from the top of his head, right down to his toes, even this early in the morning.

Stiles smiled against Boyd’s lips, pulling back just enough to murmur _I love you_.

* * *

It took Stiles three weeks to decide what he’d done wrong. Yes, he really did dwell on things for that long. He used old pancake mix. That was all. They hadn’t made pancakes from a box in a long time because Allison gave his a homemade recipe which he’d used ever since, but he was tired that morning and used the box instead. Stiles declared that nothing would be made from a box ever again in their household and Boyd just rolled his eyes.

It was only five days before Stiles whined long enough that Boyd dragged him to the store to buy Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. Nothing was better than a classic.


End file.
